


Precogs and Christmas miracles

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor, One Shot, Some christmassy nonsense, Very Brief Violence, pre-Worm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: Contessa and the Number Man save Christmas.





	Precogs and Christmas miracles

**Author's Note:**

> Local fic writer uses Christmas as an excuse to write more crack about her ship.

The first thing Contessa noticed when she stepped into the Number Man's office was that it looked even whiter than usual. The warm tropical island that had been displayed on the other side of the window for the past three weeks had been replaced with something more appropriate for the season - the snowy landscape of a frozen forest, not unlike the ones you could find in Canada or northern Europe.

 

The second thing she noticed was that the Number Man, still half-hunched over a small stack of documents, was looking at her with one eyebrow raised and his mouth curled into a strange grimace. Previous experiences suggested her that it was the face he made every time he tried too hard to hold back laughter.

 

"Very festive."

 

Only then did Contessa remember about the fake reindeer antlers Clairvoyant had been so insistent on sticking on the brim of her fedora. She had tried to avoid him, but she had soon found out hiding from an all-seeing kid while simultaneously carrying out her duties to be more difficult than she had anticipated. There were only so many Earths she could escape to, after all.

 

"Turns out people tend to underestimate you when you're wearing antlers," she paused. "You can laugh if you want."

 

The Number Man shook his head and put down his pen. "I would be a hypocrite if I did."

 

Contessa's eyes flickered down for a second and it was her turn to suppress a chuckle.

He had traded his usual plain coloured ties for a bright red and green one, decorated with a pattern of snowflakes and candy canes. Red suited him, Contessa decided, and stored the information for future reference in case she ever found herself in the position to subtly influence his fashion sense.

 

"Looks like he got to you too," she remarked, "I thought you didn't believe in a holiday created by men to spend money and stuff themselves with food with the excuse of celebrating the birth of a non-existent deity."

 

"Are you quoting me?"

 

Contessa shrugged.

 

"Well," the Number Man went on. "I do believe in increasing the efficiency of my work environment and if Christmas-themed clothing is what it takes I'm willing to make the sacrifice. Both Clairvoyant and Doormaker won't stop sulking since the Doctor said we wouldn't have time to celebrate, this year."

 

She observed him in silence for a while as he reorganised his papers and disposed them neatly on his desk, before approaching the reason of her visit: "We're going out."

 

The fact that he barely reacted to her statement only went to show how often Contessa waltzed into his office to request his assistance for this or that job, to the point that the Number Man had even stopped asking for details beforehand. He just nodded and crossed the room to fetch his suit jacket from the rack.

 

"How many steps?"

 

"Fifteen."

 

She placed a hand on his shoulder right as he was about to cross the threshold, stopping him on his tracks. He offered her a curious look.

 

"No, not that door," she explained, steering him towards the opposite direction.

 

"Why?"

 

"Clairvoyant hung mistletoe over it."

 

His expression changed as he cast a glance over her shoulder that she couldn't describe with any other word than...disappointed. Contessa couldn't help but wonder why, but she decided to dismiss the thought. She didn't have time to override her current path with such trivial questions.

 

"Door. Boston, Cambridgeside Mall."

 

The echo of her words still hung in the air when a portal opened in the middle of the Number Man's office. They could hear the faint notes of "Last Christmas" playing somewhere on the other side. Without so much as another word, Contessa stepped through. The Number Man followed suit.

 

 

*****

 

 

Contessa had heard about civilians swarming the supermarkets during the last few days before Christmas Eve, even the most posed and quiet individuals turning into bloodthirsty creatures when faced with the opportunity to put their hands on the last Christmas log or on the latest super-technological device as a present for their children, but she had never witnessed the ritual with her own eyes.

 

Even if she only had vague memories about the Christmas celebrations she had held with her family before getting her powers, she was pretty sure no tradition from her home world could compare to that.

 

From the look of his face, the Number Man seemed to share her amazement. There was a drastic difference between observing the movements of the stock market during holiday season and being thrust into the midst of a last-minute Christmas raid, she supposed.

 

People of all ages crowded the building, to the point that she had to rely on her power to make her way through the ground floor without bumping into someone every two steps and eliciting all kinds of angry remarks from nice old ladies who probably hadn't gotten the meaning of 'Christmas spirit' quite right. The Number Man trailed behind her.

 

"I remember King dressing up as Santa, once," he mused, raising his voice to make himself heard over the loud chattering of hundreds of customers. "He gave Jacob his first razor and me my first shotgun then encouraged us to try them out, which ended in... well, I'm sure you can picture it."

 

"Lots of blood and screaming?"

 

"Lots of blood and screaming."

 

Contessa knew it wasn't wise to let him wallow in memories of his gory childhood, so she caught the chance to move the conversation towards slightly more pleasant topics. Namely, the reason why she had dragged him inside a busy shopping centre on Christmas Eve, of all days.

 

"Number Six-Three-Five," she began. "Something went wrong with the memory wipe and he started wandering around. He'll try asking for help and when people will run away from him he will lash out."

 

The Number Man clicked his tongue. "A Brute 6. I should have brought a rifle."

 

Contessa produced a handgun from the pocket of her suit jacket and handed it to him. "It won't be necessary. Tranquillizer gun. I'd suggest aiming at the back of his neck, it's one of the few areas left untouched by the side-effects of his power, but I trust your judgement."

 

Just as she finished speaking, a scream cut through the air and chattering soon turned into panicked shouting.  It wasn't hard to pinpoint the source of such a violent reaction - a young man by the look of it, the hood of his sweater pulled up to conceal his features, moved against the flow of terrified customers rushing to safety. Out of the corner of her eye, Contessa saw the Number Man adjusting his glasses. She consulted her power.

 

 _Step 5: follow the target out of the building_. And still ten more steps left. She furrowed her brows and tried asking again. The answer didn't change. She grabbed his wrist, preventing him from raising his weapon and taking a shot at the deviant. "Not here."

 

"We'll lose him in this crowd if we keep waiting." The tone of his voice didn't betray any emotion, as if they were discussing the weather instead of the possibility of letting a panicked Case 53 loose in downtown Boston.

 

"We won't," Contessa reassured him.

 

This time, the Number Man didn't reply. He followed her through the remains of the sliding glass doors the deviant had shattered in his desperate escape attempt. Trusting, despite the premises. There was a reason why Contessa kept him as her partner of choice whenever the Path suggested her that some help wouldn't be a bad idea. Well, two reasons, actually. One was that none of her other colleagues was particularly suited for subtlety and the other was that he rarely objected to her decisions.

 

She looked around, her power directed her towards a SUV that had been carelessly left unlocked. She jumped on the driver's seat and started to fumble with the commands; with a couple of hints from the Path, she was soon able start the engine.

 

"Do you know how to drive?" He paused. "Stupid question, I'm sorry."

 

"Don't worry," Contessa said, and simultaneously slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The engine roared.

 

"He was running at twelve miles per hour, he can't be that far. Nine blocks at most, if we're being generous."

 

She let out a hum of acknowledgement, never shifting her eyes from the road ahead of them. They drove for no more than five minutes, before she slammed on the brakes and the car went skidding on the frozen asphalt until it came to a halt a few feet from the entrance of a small alleyway.

 

"I'll look for a vantage point," the Number Man said, hopping off the car. "Think you can keep him busy until I get a clear shot?"

 

"I don't know, what do _you_ think?"

 

He chuckled. "Alright, alright."

 

Number Six-Three-Five wasn't among the lucky ones. Where 'lucky ones' means people who had reacted positively to the vial and had been granted amazing powers with little to no drawback. Alexandria and the other members of the Triumvirate, to name a few. 

 

But not him, no, the superhuman endurance and regenerating ability he had obtained thanks to the tests Cauldron had conducted on him had come at a price. He was hunched over the weight of his own bones, that pierced his skin and the fabric of his clothes, jutting out at irregular angles from his back, his shoulders, his forearms, his hands. When he heard the clicking of Contessa's shoes against the concrete, his head snapped around.

 

"End of the line, Six-Three-Five."

 

"You!" He spat. "What do you want? Turning me into _this_ wasn't enough?!"

 

Contessa narrowed her eyes. She really hoped she wasn't in for the umpteenth speech about 'who the real monsters are', they tended to be very repetitive. She even used to keep a small diary in which she wrote down the most recurring lines, at some point. Even then, it had become really boring really fast.

 

"You're cornered. I suggest you to surrender, it will make it easier both for you and for us. My partner is aiming at you right now, in case you thought you could try attacking me and leaving unscathed."

 

A sound halfway between a laugh and growl erupted from the deviant's throat.

"I'll let you kill me before I let you and that-- that _fucking nerd_ take me back in there!"

 

Contessa moved a step forward, to which the Case 53 took a step back. "We'd rather not come to that."

 

"Thanks for your consideration, but I'll decide for myself this time."

 

Without a warning, Six-Three-Five lunged forwards, arms extended towards her. She waited, waited until her power judged it was time to move a single step to the left and turn around. The deviant lost his balance and barrelled past her, his claw-like bones leaving but a shallow cut across her left cheek. At the same time, two muffled gunshots echoed through the walls of the alley. Two clean shots to the back of the deviant's head. He stumbled forward, before collapsing on the ground.

 

Contessa sighed. She circled around him and bent down to pick up her hat, noting that one of the the plastic antlers had broken during the short struggle. She was about to pull off the other one too, for consistency's sake, when she found herself picturing the disappointed reaction of Clairvoyant, were he to see her come back without his, er ...present. She decided to leave it be.

 

"You can be Rudolph the asymmetric reindeer, now," the Number Man commented when he reappeared, offering her an amused smile. Contessa ignored the remark, nodding instead towards the Case 53 they had finally managed to incapacitate.

 

"He's too heavy to carry, let's get him in the trunk."

 

Neither of them knew they were in for a surprise, when the   was lifted and the contents of said trunk were displayed. The Number Man was the first to come up with an appropriate comment for the situation.

 

"This is unexpected."

 

"It is," she agreed. Contessa was rarely caught off guard by her own power, which made the few times it happened all the more jarring.

 

She cast a glance towards the deviant lying unconscious at her feet, then back at the trunk. _Back seat it is, then._

 

 

 

*****

 

 

"Seems like your power has a sense of humour."

 

"It might be because of how I formulated the question. The Doctor was upset about the whole ordeal so I asked for the fastest way to catch him that would appease everyone."

 

Contessa and the Number Man were leaning against opposite doorframes of the gate leading to the conference room, which Clairvoyant had managed to turn into a full-fledged Christmas décor exhibit with the help of the seemingly infinite supply of festive ornaments they had found in the trunk of the car. The whiteboard had been pushed aside to make room for a six-feet tall Christmas tree, complete with colourful blinking lights. The young cape had struggled a bit when it had come to the star-shaped topper, but Doormaker had intervened even before Contessa herself could step forward to help him; the impasse had been quickly resolved with the aid of a small portal.

 

"Speaking of the Doctor, do you think she will have something to say about this?" The Number Man asked.

 

Contessa stared at the ceiling for a short while, all the possible conversational options dancing before her eyes along with the effect they would have on an angry Doctor Mother who had just discovered their utter disregard for her 'no celebrations' rule.

 

"Not if we tell her it was unintentional," she concluded. The Number Man seemed satisfied of the answer and they resumed their observation of their younger colleagues running around the Christmas tree and pulling all sorts of decorations out of the cardboard boxes.

 

How odd, Contessa thought. Looking at them now from an outside perspective they would have probably looked like a happy little family preparing to celebrate Christmas together. A happy, child-kidnapping, human-experimenting little family enjoying the festive atmosphere.

 

She was so lost in thought that she almost missed the light tap against her leg. When she looked down, she found herself facing the burned black holes where Clairvoyant's eyes should have been.  "What is it?"

 

The boy pointed to something above her head and smiled. Contessa knew what he was trying to have her notice even before she raised her own eyes. Mistletoe. How could have she forgotten about it?

 

"We don't have to honour _all_ Christmas traditions, now..." the Number Man tried. Contessa was thankful for his attempt, but she doubted the boy would be dissuaded so easily. True to form, Clairvoyant put up a disappointed pout and crossed his arms on his chest. It was amazing how expressive he still managed to be, given his peculiar condition.

 

"Why don't you and Doormaker open the presents and see what's inside?" She proposed. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to feel too bad about the family who would now spend Christmas without presents nor decorations.

 

The boy hesitated. Eventually - much to the Number Man's relief - curiosity got the better of him and he hurried to join his partner by the pile of colourful boxes sitting under the plastic tree.

 

Contessa didn't miss how the Number Man had shifted on his feet. His cheeks had turned positively pink, not to mention how, all of a sudden, he seemed to find the white-on-white tiled floor to be incredibly interesting. Maybe he was just estimating the market value of the gaming console Doormaker had just unwrapped, it was hard to tell.

 

_What is he thinking about?_

The answer was...interesting. And it explained a lot about the man's behaviour in the past few years. She was so used to relying on the Path and its mechanisms that her following thought morphed naturally into a question, almost of its own will.

 

_Would he like it if I actually did that?_

Yes, he would. Contessa smiled a little to herself.

The following step involved leaning in and pressing her lips ever-so-gently against his. She felt his body tense, just for a second before giving in.

 

"You taste of blood," he murmured against her mouth, still not pulling away.

 

"I didn't realise you cared."

 

The Number Man moved back, his brows knitted into a frown. "If that was a cheap shot at Jacob, I swear--"

 

Despite what he might have thought, Contessa didn't aspire to compete with the shadows of his past. Not yet. For the time being, she was more than happy to settle somewhere lower on the scale. For example: _How do I shut him up?_

The answer turned out to be painfully obvious, to the point that Contessa silently cursed herself for having called on the Path straight away. Clichéd, maybe, but still so damn obvious.

 

She made sure that Clairvoyant and Doormaker were still both too busy unwrapping their unexpected presents to pay them any attention, then she grabbed him by his hideous Christmas-themed tie and pulled him into another kiss.


End file.
